AGN -Chapter 466 The Charm of Side Dishes

“L-later is fine… but don’t serve it last. He likes to have some staple food,” Qin Huai said, his attention completely drawn to the Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix. He almost instinctively blurted out, at a time like this who even cares about staple food? but caught himself after saying the first half and quickly corrected it—yes, they still needed staple food.

He could skip staple food, but Zhao Cheng’an couldn’t. If Zhao Cheng’an didn’t eat it, how would the side quest be completed?

As soon as Zhang Guanghang left, Zhao Cheng’an exclaimed, “Holy crap, Qin Huai, what was that dish called again? I didn’t catch it—Hundred Birds what? Where are the birds in that dish? Isn’t it just a peacock with its feathers spread? It should be called Peacock Spreading Its Tail instead.”

“The presentation is insane. That standing bird head carved from carrot—I don’t think I could carve that in a whole day. And all those pieces… where do you even start eating this dish? Can you bite the bird head?”

Even as he spoke, Zhao Cheng’an’s chopsticks moved faster than ever. While talking, he was already eating and rapidly commenting, “Damn, this is chicken. This piece is pork. The sauce on top is thickened gravy. Qin Huai, hurry up and eat—this is actually a hot dish!”

Qin Huai: “……”

You’re telling me to hurry up, but your chopsticks aren’t slowing down at all.

So “hurry up” wasn’t encouragement—it was a warning, wasn’t it?

Qin Huai knew there was no time to complain. Even though his only competitor was Zhao Cheng’an—and Zhao wasn’t even a big eater compared to people like Ou Yang or Shi Dadan—Qin Huai himself also had a small appetite.

But Zhao Cheng’an, when hungry, ate like lightning. His chopstick skills were even more agile than when he made pastries, as if all those years of practicing white-dough pastry skills were just for this moment.

Without hesitation, Qin Huai joined the silent battle. Chopsticks clashed as the two competed for food.

When Zhang Guanghang entered with the third dish, the Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix was already completely gone—only a lonely, exquisitely carved carrot bird head remained standing on the plate.

Zhang Guanghang: “……”

Did these two even listen to what I just said?

“Suzao Meat, please enjoy,” he said, preparing to remove the plate, when Zhao Cheng’an stopped him.

“Um… Chef Zhang, we wanted to ask—can this carrot be eaten?” Zhao Cheng’an asked sincerely, his face showing the expression of two white-dough chefs seeing the world’s finest banquet for the first time, unsure what parts were edible.

Zhang Guanghang: “……”

“It’s mainly decorative. But it can be eaten. The carrot has been blanched, then seasoned with sesame oil, fragrant oil, and sugar. However, since there are many dishes today, it’s not recommended to eat it.”

Zhao Cheng’an suddenly understood and said excitedly to Qin Huai, “See! I told you it’s edible. I could smell it was fragrant just now!”

He quickly snatched the carrot into his plate and bit off the bird head with a crisp crunch: “Mmm, tastes like a cold dish.”

He even shared some thin cucumber slices—also decorative—with Qin Huai. Qin Huai tried them and found they were refreshing and delicious, even though they didn’t seem heavily seasoned.

The two “white-dough chefs who had never seen the world” simultaneously reacted like country bumpkins encountering a royal feast.

Zhang Guanghang said nothing and silently took the empty plate back to the kitchen.

Back in the kitchen, he found his master, Xia Murui, happily watching the surveillance feed—literally “happily” in the most literal sense.

He was smiling.

On the monitor, Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an had finished the decorative parts of one dish and were now studying the next. Cherry tomatoes for one bite, broccoli for another, both eating with amazement.

The cherry tomatoes were sugar-preserved; the broccoli was deliberately sauced. Even the garnish of Suzao Meat was delicious on its own.

Zhang Guanghang couldn’t help asking, “Master, did you spend so much time on these garnishes just so they would notice?”

Xia Murui stopped smiling slightly, a hint of pride in his tone.

“These dishes are imperial cuisine. Back when my master was second chef at Tai Feng Lou, he was best at these court dishes.”

“The nobles didn’t care much about garnishes—they were just decoration. Even the main dishes were only tasted lightly by attendants. But just because the nobles didn’t eat them doesn’t mean the chefs could be careless. If a noble suddenly decided to try a garnish and found it poorly made, the chef would be in serious trouble.”

“At that time, the old prince loved inviting chefs from Tai Feng Lou to the manor. My master and Chef Jiang handled the main dishes, while we apprentices made the side dishes. Most leftovers were taken by the servants; we apprentices barely got anything.”

“After every banquet, my junior apprentice would get very greedy. And since he wasn’t very bright, my master worried he might sneak leftovers or dig through the waste buckets in the manor. So he would ask the steward for permission to bring back unused trimmings from cooking, season them simply, and let my apprentice satisfy his cravings.”

“Later, when we moved to the Li Residence, things improved. The nobles there were generous—leftovers were shared with servants, and the kitchen got the best portions. My apprentice got used to eating those trimmings, to the point that during distribution, he would rather give up a piece of pork knuckle just to get more garnish.”

Zhang Guanghang couldn’t help asking, “Master… why have I never heard you talk about this before?”

Xia Murui paused, looking at the monitor, then smiled faintly and sighed.

“Maybe I’ve gotten old. I’ve forgotten many things myself.”

Then he turned back to cooking.

In the private room, Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an had no idea about Xia Murui’s intentions behind the garnishes. They simply felt that Fen Yuan truly deserved its reputation as Beijing’s number one private kitchen—every single garnish was astonishing.

Beans had their own flavor, peas had theirs, tomatoes were sugar-cured, cucumbers were refreshing, and even broccoli, carrots, and greens each had carefully crafted tastes.

The main dish stood proudly, while the side dishes bloomed like a hundred flowers.

Halfway through, Qin Huai had almost forgotten about the side quest—his mind was completely filled with eating.

Delicious. He loved it. He wanted more.

In previous restaurants, Qin Huai would ignore garnish vegetables entirely—or even push them aside as annoying. But here at Fen Yuan, every plate was a work of art.

They no longer started with the main dish. Instead, they explored the garnishes first.

And every dish had different variations—tomatoes that were sweet, salty, or wine-soaked; carrots that were crisp or tender; even broccoli had at least three different flavors.

This was the power of a top-ten chef.

This was the prestige of Beijing’s number one private kitchen.

Zhang Guanghang kept serving dishes, each time bringing in a full plate and taking out an empty one. The diners in the hall were stunned, wondering how fast the people in that private room were eating.

For curious readers: were Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an really that big-eaters?

Not really. But Xia Murui quietly reduced portion sizes to about one-third to one-half of normal servings. The remaining space on the plates was filled with garnishes.

That was why so much effort went into them.

Even if only the chef and Zhang Guanghang knew this.

“Wanfurou, please enjoy.”

“Osmanthus shark fin, please enjoy.”

“Braised deer tendon, please enjoy.”

“Clear soup willow-leaf bird’s nest, please enjoy.”

“Mandarin duck cauliflower, please enjoy.”

“Blackfish roe soup, please enjoy.”

“……”

“Burp.”

After finishing the last sip of fish roe soup, Qin Huai let out a burp.

That burp snapped him back to awareness.

He suddenly realized something was wrong.

He hadn’t even seen the staple food yet.

Hot dishes could be served alongside desserts, and hot dishes could even be served alongside soups. Anything was possible.

Regular patrons of Fen Yuan attributed this unusual serving style to Chef Xia’s casual and unrestrained personality. The menu itself was like that too—always changing, entirely dependent on what the old chef felt like doing that day.

Qin Huai, however, felt there probably wasn’t anything that complicated behind it. It was simply because Fen Yuan only had one chef, and Chef Xia was too lazy to follow a strict serving order—he just cooked whatever came up next.

“Zhao Cheng’an, are you full yet?” Qin Huai asked urgently.

“Full?” Zhao Cheng’an burped. “A bit, but I’m okay. I think I can still handle at least three more dishes.”

He carefully scraped the remaining fish roe soup from the bowl, not wasting a single drop, fully embodying the idea of cherishing food.

“Then stop eating for now.”

Zhao Cheng’an: ?

As soon as Qin Huai finished speaking, Zhang Guanghang walked in with a new dish.

“Soft-Braised Tofu, please enjoy.”

Seeing the table predictably already cleared, Zhang Guanghang calmly prepared to take the empty plate away—until Qin Huai stopped him.

“Um… sorry, could we start serving the staple food now?” Qin Huai said loudly, his voice full of longing for carbs and urgency that suggested he genuinely couldn’t eat any more if he didn’t get them soon. “The ones I made—mantou, rice cakes, and yam cakes—all of them. As for what Zhao Cheng’an made, you can skip those.”

Zhao Cheng’an: ??

Hey buddy, what do you mean “serve all mine but skip his”? Mine are… actually yeah, you can skip them. They’re laminated pastries and don’t really fit today’s banquet.

Zhang Guanghang: ???

And at a time like this, you’re still thinking about pastries? Do you really love them that much?

“Alright,” Zhang Guanghang nodded and left.

In fact, Qin Huai’s pastries had already been steamed and ready long ago. But today, Xia Murui only had one extra table of guests, and dishes were coming out very quickly and continuously, so Zhang Guanghang never found the right moment to serve them.

The 6 PM reservation was just to make it look like Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an weren’t the only diners. The 7 PM slot had no other guests at all.

In other words, tonight Fen Yuan was effectively operating only for them.

It was also the only banquet in Fen Yuan’s decades-long history that was completely free of charge.

This was Chef Xia’s absolute favoritism.

When Zhang Guanghang returned to the kitchen, he found Xia Murui eating mantou—Zhao Cheng’an’s brown sugar mantou.

That was one of Zhao Cheng’an’s afternoon creations. Because it was rushed and sloppy, it didn’t turn out well, and both Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an had ignored it completely.

Yet Xia Murui was eating it.

“Master, why aren’t you eating Qin Huai’s plain mantou? That one actually tastes pretty good,” Zhang Guanghang said. He had snacked on a bit earlier and thought Qin Huai’s pastries were solid.

“I don’t like plain flour ones,” Xia Murui said without hesitation. “Brown sugar ones have more flavor.”

Zhang Guanghang: “……”

Alright then. His master had been acting strange these past two days.

“Qin Huai and Zhao Cheng’an still want pastries. Should I plate the plain mantou, rice cakes, yam cakes, and brown sugar mantou together—two each?” Zhang Guanghang asked.

“No need for brown sugar mantou,” Xia Murui said while chewing. “Two each of the other three is fine. Actually, even two is too much—if they eat that, they won’t have room for anything else.”

“The rest of the dishes don’t need to go out either. We’ll eat them ourselves later. Just cut a fruit platter and serve that at the end.”

Zhang Guanghang: !

“Yes, Master.”

Soon, Zhang Guanghang carried the pastries into the private room.

“Pastry platter, please enjoy.”

Zhao Cheng’an immediately grabbed a rice cake and took a bite.

“Qin Huai, I’m telling you, good dishes really need these. Ahh, I ate too fast earlier—I should’ve saved some sauce for the mantou.”

Zhang Guanghang, standing at the door: “……”

Qin Huai didn’t eat. He just watched Zhao Cheng’an.

But even after Zhao Cheng’an ate two bites of rice cake, there was still no game prompt sound.

Qin Huai silently handed him a mantou.

“Eating it plain is fine too. Have some mantou.”

Zhao Cheng’an accepted it without suspicion and took a bite.

Still no prompt.

Qin Huai: ?

He frowned and handed him a piece of yam cake directly.

“Maybe try this instead.”

Zhao Cheng’an blinked. “Are you just full and dumping all this on me?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just eat.”

Zhao Cheng’an sighed and took a bite of yam cake.

Still nothing.

Qin Huai: ?

What’s wrong with you, Zhao Cheng’an? Didn’t you just say plain mantou, rice cakes, and yam cakes were enough? Now that they’re here, why isn’t the quest triggering?

What’s wrong with the system?

You’re suddenly being this picky?

Weren’t you fine yesterday?

This was supposed to be a side quest—but it was actually a timed quest. If you missed the window, it was gone. And now you’re telling me you don’t like it when you’re already full?

Qin Huai suddenly had the urge to shake him and make him spit everything out and start over.

He stared silently at Zhao Cheng’an.

“Are you dissatisfied with the pastries I made today?”

Zhao Cheng’an: ??

“Huh?” Zhao Cheng’an froze.

“Do you think my pastries don’t match this banquet?”

“Huh???” Zhao Cheng’an was even more confused now. He thought Qin Huai had just suddenly lost it—getting weird even after eating his fill. Maybe he really needed a psychiatrist.

Zhao Cheng’an quickly reassured him, “No way. Your pastries are amazing, Qin Huai. No doubt they fit Chef Xia’s level.”

The next second, a system prompt rang in Qin Huai’s mind:

Ding. Congratulations, player. You have completed side quest [Zhao Cheng’an’s Desire]. Reward obtained: [A fragment of Zhao Cheng’an’s dream].

Qin Huai smiled.

“See? I thought so too.”

“Eat slowly. Don’t choke.”